


Walk Through The Fire

by C_Rogue



Series: New Kind of Animal [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Female Jon Snow, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2018-10-28 22:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10840635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_Rogue/pseuds/C_Rogue
Summary: Alysanne Snow (Jon) could only imagine what the creatures of Old Nan's stories had looked like in centuries past. Yet right before, she stared at three eggs. Dragon eggs, maybe. She slams the chest. How did these eggs come to sit in the crypts of Winterfell? Ghost pawed at the crest. "No, Ghost." She lifted the box. "We will deal with this later. The king should be arriving tomorrow."





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow your dreams, they know the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

**276 AC**  

Standing before the ruins of Summerhall, Rhaegar Targaryen gazed at the castle that held a special connection in his heart above all other regions in Westeros. The prince of Dragonstone walked along the outside of the blacken halls of his birth place, alone with his thoughts. His guard stayed in the nearby village, while he traveled to the ruins. The shadow of Summerhall haunted him since he learned about the circumstances of his birth. Built by King Daeron II, the twelfth king to sit upon the Iron Throne, it was a place of relaxation from the trials of court for his family. The tragedy that befell the castle while he came into the world. The death of kings and the birth of a prince. Touching the walls, the black soot that painted his hand still remained, even after all these years. 

The ghost knew his songs, and he knew the ghost. His harp, a constant companion when he traveled to Summerhall, played his emotions. The silver strings shared in his heartache, together making music of mutual sentiment. Rhaegar traveled to Summerhall for a couple of years, singing under the moon and stars, when he was not with his books by the sun or candlelight. One found Rhaegar, these past few years, building his skills with the sword. He once heard the servants’ whispers of how his mother must have swallowed books and candles whilst he was in her womb. He did not even mind the whispers of knights, who jest and called him Baelor the Blessed reborn. He was more a scholar than a warrior, but that did change during his studies one day.

That day he marched up to Ser William Darry, the master-at-arms, in the yard as the knights were donning their steel, and told him he required a sword for it seem he must be a warrior. The field was silent. Rhaegar could tell no one was expecting this. Yet, no one questioned his decision at that moment, as the knight equipped him, and his training began. He knew that as the Prince that was Promised, and he needed to prepare for when the realm needed him.

Time passed with the sun dipping below the desolate lands, giving rise to a glimmering moon. A fire warmed the prince while his harp, still in hand, played its tune. A sad melody came from its stings while the dragon prince crooned the words. Rhaegar continued to sing until his arms no longer held the harp. The ghost crawled closer as Rhaegar’s eyes grew heavy with sleep. 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

_Screams of pain surrounded the prince, with the clanking of steel. He wore black armor, covered in rubies that seem to be crying, while he stood in the middle of a deep stream. In front of him, stood a black stag. The antlers of the beast were towering, as if they could touch the heavens. Their shadow engulfing Rhaegar. The stag rose from the ground from beast to man, armed to fight._

_“You will pay, dragonspawn!” The creature shouted while it began its charge. Rhaegar readied himself for the fight. The rubies tears stained the stream red around him._

_The land changed before his eyes. Something started falling from the sky. Was it snowing? No, Rhaegar realized, reaching out his hand. Petals. Petals from blue roses. They were a rare sight in the South. Rhaegar moved forward. The further Rhaegar traveled, the harder the petals fell. The petals began to blind his sight, yet Rhaegar saw a figure through the winter roses. The ground shook the closer Rhaegar moved towards the mysterious figure. Beneath the figure, her shadow mutated. One shadow turned to three. Rhaegar watched as these shadows grew, and the three gigantic shadows loomed above the figure. Their roars deafened Rhaegar, as the then world turned black._

_Again, Rhaegar’s dream changed. He knew where he was immediately. In front of him stood Summerhall, but it was not the burnt ruin that he had come to know. This castle was magnificent, standing tall among the mountains behind it. The lake glisten, like diamonds, as the sun’s rays hit the water. The chanting of Valyrian greeted Rhaegar. He made his way to the great hall. A room filled with people. His eyes immediately found the man in the center of the room, with shoulder-length hair that shone bright like gold. This slender man, Rhaegar recognized, was Aegon V Targaryen. The king of Westeros when Summerhall burned._

_The man next to him then had to be his son and heir apparent, Duncan Targaryen. The tallest of the group then was Duncan the Tall, the commander of the Kingsguard. The men and many others surrounded a fire. Rhaegar walked closer to the group. The fire crackled, and yet Rhaegar noticed something in the middle of the flame. Moving closer, the grew bigger, while the chanting grew louder. The prince of Dragonstone halted in his steps, his eyes widening at the scene in front of him. The flames clawed up the castle walls, and the chants turned to screams. Rhaegar could only watch in horror as men and castle burned together. Yet, the king of Westeros stood next to the fire. The flames climbed slowly up his clothing, and he did not seem to notice. The past king lifted his sight from the fire, and looked at Rhaegar._

_“Find them.” He commanded. The ground below Rhaegar splintered, and the earth below him opened. The heir apparent dropped through the earth, landing on his back. The pain. Pain? Rhaegar reached to the unknown. It was cold and damp. Slowly, the world around the prince turned to black. Up above, the world still burned. Yet, Rhaegar thought he heard not the screams of the dying, but a roar._  

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Rhaegar awoke, the sound of clanking steel still rang in his ears, while the rest of the dreams slowly faded. Yet, Rhaegar cling to his dreams, fighting for them to stay just for a little while longer. His heavy panting filled the silence in the field. With his breathing calming, Rhaegar stared out at the rising sun. The vividness of the dream, the sound of war, the smell of the roses, and the feeling of the flame beneath his hands were almost life like. Looking over, Rhaegar noticed that his camp fire was beginning to die down. Poking at the flame, he placed another log on it. Summerhall loomed over him. Thinking back on the dream, Rhaegar remembered the words Aegon spoke to him. _Find them_. Find who?

“Are you hiding something within your walls?” Rhaegar questioned the blacken ruins. He had to know what secrets were calling out to him from his dreams. Rhaegar lit a branch with the remaining fire, and walked towards the castle that had plagued him. Inside the castle, the heir apparent followed the path from his dream, searching through the burnt rooms; touching and banging on the walls and the floors. Light from the broken roof bolstered Rhaegar’s flame. There had to be something here, Rhaegar thought as he continued his journey. He traveled into the great hall, making his way to the center of the room. He watched the castle burn from this room before the dream faded. With sunlight peeking into the room, Rhaegar stepped forward gently. With each step, the floor creaked. From the stories Rhaegar heard of that terrible night, Aegon was trying to hatch dragons from the eggs he gathered. Rhaegar continued to stare down at the floor. Did Aegon place them in the flames? The age of the dragons from the Conquest was over. The creatures living in peace until the Dance of the Dragons about brought them near extinction. The last dragon died with Aegon III. To be able to ride a dragon was something Rhaegar would never be able to do, a wish of many of his family. His foot slammed into the floor, in a bout of rage. The Targaryen line almost ended by its own hands. His foot slammed again into the ground. He would do better than his ancestors. The creak turned into a crack.

The prince of Dragonstone fell instantaneously. The impact sudden and painful. Rhaegar tried to reclaim his breath, as he laid upon the bedrock. Something wet and cold landed on the prince’s forehead, prompting him to slowly lift himself up. He paused at what laid before him. The cave was massive. Stalactites hung above him, their edges readied to strike when released from their confines. Basins of water laid throughout the cave.

Slowly moving through, Rhaegar noticed that the pools were of different depths. Some puddles, others so deep Rhaegar doubt he would ever see the bottom. How this system exists without anyone knowing was something Rhaegar doubt he would learn in this lifetime. Yet, that was not his greatest concern. The silver haired prince searched the cave diligently, yet there seem to be none. As time passed, the young prince filled with a thirst. Rhaegar bent down to drink from one of the pools. The cool water felt fulfilling sliding down his throat. Taking a moment to stare down at the body of water, a sparkle caught Rhaegar’s eye at the bottom of the pool. One speck turned to three upon a closer look, each a blur. Quickly undressing, Rhaegar dove into the water. He pulled himself deeper into the water, going further down with each stroke. Hands reaching forward, towards the specks, Rhaegar gripped them tightly to his chest. He pushed himself to the surface. His lungs began to burn.

Gasping for breath, the dragon prince pulled himself out of the pool, clutching at his prize. Dragging himself out of the water, Rhaegar finally looked down at what he grabbed out of the water. _By the Seven Gods_. Rhaegar could not believe what he held in his arms. He lost his mind. It was the only explanation. In his arms, Rhaegar held three dragon eggs. Magnificent beasts that kept his family in power for hundreds of years laid in his arms. Staring at the eggs, it seems that time had harden them into stone. Yet, they were still a symbol of his family. Three eggs, three different looks. One egg was white, silver streams laid through the ancient egg. The second was red with copper markings spread throughout. The last dragon egg was a deep cobalt, with gold markings flowing deep. Rhaegar kept them close, looking for an exit back to the top. More time passed when Rhaegar finally found an opening in the cave. His body chilled from the water, Rhaegar headed back to his camp.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Rhaegar sat close to the flames, drying off from his misadventure. The eggs placed in front of him. The prince stared at the eggs in awe. The realization of what he had found still stumbling around in his mind. Was this a sign of who he was meant to be? Should he show his family what he had found? This could be a sign of good fortune to come, but Rhaegar hesitated. His father had slowly been crumbling into madness, cutting everybody off from him. No, he would keep this to himself for now. While he was fascinated with the creatures, maybe he did not know everything about them. He should head back to King’s Landing. When the time was right, he would show the eggs to everyone.

Sometime later, a voice shouted for the dragon prince. “My prince!” The voice called again. Rhaegar turned from packing his supplies to his horse, tightening the last strap. The eggs laid tucked in his bag, bundled in his clothes. He turned to see a kingsguard racing towards him. The rider was close enough for Rhaegar to recognize who it was. The knight was Ser Jonothor Darry, atop his dark stead. The Kingsguard stopped his horse feet from his prince, his breathe heavy from the journey.

“What is it, Ser? You seem in a hurry, that you passed my guard.” Rhaegar asked the knight. “Your mother, my prince. She gave birth. It is a boy!" Ser Darry took a moment to catch his breath. "They named him Viserys, your grace. You have been ordered home by the king.” He announced to Rhaegar. The prince nodded, lifting himself onto his horse. “Then we need to head home, so I may meet my little brother.” The prince and knight began their journey back to King’s Landing.


	2. I Wanna Dream, Leave Me To Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A piece of normalcy before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired By: Dream By Imagine Dragons 
> 
> Happy Memorial Day to all those in the U.S.  
> Thank you to all who have commented, left kudos, pointed out mistakes, and have just read the prologue. It has brought me great joy. I do wish this chapter had come out quicker. However, I work at a nonprofit, and June is biggest month with two volunteer events in the next two weeks and a fundraiser at the end of June. I have been put in charge of many aspects of these events. I just have not wanted to look at a computer when I came home at the end of the day. Thank you for being patient.
> 
> Also when I first started writing this, I pictured Katie McGrath right away. So when you need to picture this character, just picture this actress with brown eyes not her lovely green. 
> 
> Please do enjoy this chapter and remember this is unbeta'd.

**298 AC**

 

 

_ Alysanne sprinted through the grounds of Winterfell. Her voice echoed, yet no one replied. She ran past the glass gardens. She could feel the heat radiating from the gardens. Recently, fruits and vegetables were planted for the coming months. As she continued to dash through the castle grounds, there was not a single soul to be found. Moving to the Godswood, Alysanne could feel the heart tree’s eyes on her as she headed into the courtyard. The gentle falling of snow kissed her cheeks, lightly coating her dark brown hair, while she entered the courtyard. The bareness of the yard was isolating, but she could still feel the security the stone walls of Winterfell held. This was her home. The only place she had ever known. It would protect her. _

 

_ Suddenly, Alysanne heard whispers of her name. A woman called out to her. _

 

_ Alysanne... _

 

_ Alysanne... _

 

_ The voice ceaselessly repeated. The voice lead Alysanne to the doors of the crypts. This voice grew louder, the closer to the doors she stepped. Hesitating at the entrance, Alysanne slowly opened the doors to head within.  _

 

_ She walked among the vaulted ceiling. Along the lit line of granite pillars, two by two between them, were the entombed dead of House Stark. Alysanne could feel their stares. Bestowing their judgement on the bastard of Winterfell.  _

 

_ “I know I’m no Stark.” She whispered to the spirits of Winterfell. Yet, Alysanne’s body moved deeper into the tomb. Despite being underneath hot springs, the crypts always had a chill she was never able to shake. Her strides stilled in front of one statue, her aunt Lyanna. It had been eighteen years since her death. Her father rarely spoke of her aunt, but she had heard the whispers that she and Arya both favored their late aunt’s looks. Many had also said that Arya favored their late aunt’s personality. Her? Well no one denied she is Eddard Stark’s daughter.  _

 

_ Alysanne...  _

 

_ The voice returned. Alysanne glanced around the crypts. No one was there.  _

 

_ Alysanne!  _

_ The voice shouted at her. Alysanne stared up at her aunt’s statue. She gasped. Tears flowed from the statue’s eyes. They mimicked those of the heart tree in the Godswood. Alysanne tried to reach out to her aunt’s statue, but the ground started vibrating, stopping her in her tracks.  _

 

_ The roar was deafening. She froze in place. The crypts shook as something came closer. The air was heavy. Alysanne clutched at her chest. The air became so hot, she couldn't breathe. The stomping continued. She first noticed the talons as they clawed up from the lower levels, then the scales. The gray faded to white with yellow eyes staring at her.  _

 

_ No, they were gone. Stories you told your children, when they spoke of the history of Westeros. A dragon stood before her. Yet, the last of the dragons died hundreds of years ago. Alysanne stumbled away from the beast falling to the ground. Her fingers dug into the the earth, waiting for the beast to strike. The dragon clawed closer, step by step, and then it stopped.   _

 

_ Time ticked by with no movement from either being. The dragon did nothing as Alysanne slowly stood back up, trying to move back to the entrance. She didn't think it was going to do anything, until the dragon’s chest inhaled. The fire released from its jaw. Alysanne cowered, and squeezed her eyes from the flames as it engulfed the crypt. This was her end.  _

 

_ Yet, the pain didn’t come. Her skin did not burn, nor did it melt from her bones. Her eyes fluttered open as walls of flames surrounded her. Alysanne’s eyes darted back to the dragon, but it just stared back. Alysanne realized that the dragon was waiting for something. She moved towards the beast. She saw the flames brush her skin, but she did not feel their burn. Her hand inched closer to the dragon’s stout. The creature waited. As she was to touch the dragon, voices bellowed throughout the crypts.  _

 

_ YOU ARE NOT A STARK! YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE!  _

 

_ Fear caused her to flee. The flames followed,and, upon her exit from the tomb, Alysanne’s eyes widened. She collapsed, taking in what was happening around her.  _

 

_ Winterfell burned.  _

 

_ Smoke blackened the sky and flooded her throat. Her vision blurred as tears fell. She tried to breathe and wipe at her eyes, yet her attempts offered no relief. Alysanne searched for an escape. A howl disrupted her search and through the smoke, red eyes stared at Alysanne.  _

 

_ For whatever reason, maybe these recent events had dulled her sense of preservation, she did not fear this creature either. It was familiar. One howl turned to many in the background. The outline of the beast turned from Alysanne and moved further into the smoke. Alysanne lifted herself from the snow and chased after the beast.  _

 

_ Alys, wake up. _

 

_ Alys. _

 

_ The world turned white.  _

 

Alysanne gasped back into reality. Light barely filtered into the room. She was pinned to the bed, someone gripping her shoulders. She calmed when she looked up and saw the ocean. Robb’s eyes stared back at her in concern. “Robb.” She breathed. Her right hand lifting to cup his face. The scruffiness of his beard tickled her hand. The lines of worry faded from Robb’s face, a slight smile emerging, as he leaned down to kiss her. She enjoyed these moments, no roles, just him and her. 

 

“Morning,” he said, contend that she was fine until the concern reappeared on his face. “Are you well? You were shaking and murmuring. It woke me.” 

 

Alysanne lifted herself, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “I am fine. I just had a very strange dream.” No more words were spoken of it between the brother and sister. Alysanne could tell Robb wanted to ask about the dream, but he did not. She was grateful. Alysanne didn’t know if she could explain what she experienced. 

“Sadly, it’s time for me to head back to my room,” Robb explained. Alysanne nodded, raising herself from the bed following Robb to the door. The night was theirs to be true to themselves, but once the day came again, they returned to their roles. 

 

“I’ll meet you at morning meal,” she told Robb at the door. He tuned back to Alysanne, the look of concern on his face. “I promise I am all right. It was just a dream. Probably from spending too many night in my books. My imagination got the best of me.” Alysanne took her brother’s hand and squeezed. “Go. I will see you soon.” Robb seemed to accept this, leaning to give her a brief kiss before leaving the room. 

_____________________

 

Alysanne knew that her life was a rare one, for few lords would claim their bastard child. She first believed it was because she favored her father’s coloring more than most of the other Stark children, beside Arya. They both shared the Lord of Winterfell’s grey eyes. Alysanne was pleased she also shared his dark brown hair, hers curling just beneath her shoulders. 

 

It was most unheard of for a lord to raise that child among their true born children. She couldn’t imagine what other lords would say if they knew; a bastard child ate at the same table as the Warden of the North's true born children. Basing off years of Lady Stark’s sentiments, she would rather run to the Wall than deal with them. Alysanne seated herself at the far end of the table, next to Arya today. She messed with her youngest sister’s hair, a grin on Alysanne's face. 

 

“Hey!” Arya exclaimed, covering her head. 

 

“Good morning you,” Alysanne greeted. 

 

Arya didn't keep the frown off her face and smiled back at her sister. “Are you going to practice archery with me today?” the youngest Stark daughter asked. “You promised.” 

 

Alysanne opened her mouth to answer, when another voice spoke. “You know you have your lessons with Septa Mordane today, Arya,” Lady Stark intervene from the other end of the table. 

 

Alysanne shrugged at her baby sister, with a frown. “Another day, then,” was her only reply. Arya frowned, stabbing at her food. That ended quickly with a look from her mother. 

 

Alysanne looked around the table. Sansa, as usual, sat near her mother. At thirteen, she’d grown more like the ladies of the stories she’d loved to listen to as a young girl. She looked so much like her mother. She also adopted many of her traits, including ignoring Alysanne. It finally hammered the power words had, when Sansa learned the meaning of bastard. Gone were those days of seeing admiration shine in her little sister’s eyes while they played princess and knights. Alysanne didn’t blame Sansa. Her younger sister idolized her mother and her Southern ways. Alysanne would not take that away from her. The love of a mother was something she longed for herself.

 

Rickon, the littlest pup of the Stark family at only six, happily munched on his breakfast next to his mother. He very much favored his mother's coloring, as did Robb and Sansa.

 

Alysanne looked to the rest of the Starks, as they enjoyed to their own meal. She was feeling melancholy at that moment. Maybe it was because of the dream last night, but the air felt different. It felt heavy in her chest. She couldn't fully describe it. Alysanne continued to eat her meal, but her eyes settled on her left hand. She could still feel the flame on her. The fluttering of the fire only tickled her skin. The stare of the dragon. It felt like it knew her, same as the other creature in the smoke. She didn't feel fear when she thought back on them. Maybe she could go to Maester Luwin and he could help her understand. No, he would think it was just Old Nan's stories messing with her head. 

 

"Hey." A hand plopped on her hair. "Are you done daydreaming?" Alysanne looked up to see Robb staring down at her. Looking back to the table, she noticed that everyone else had left the table. 

 

"Oh."

 

Robb huff a laugh behind her. "Come on, we will be late for our lessons."

_____________________

 

The clanging of dull blades was a common sound between the heir, the bastard, and the ward of Winterfell. Alysanne stood off to the side as Robb and Theon practiced with Ser Rodrik. The two circled each other, each waiting to find the perfect moment to attack. Alysanne was predicting that Theon would end up on the ground, when she noticed Maester Luwin walking through the courtyard. He held something in his hand. 

 

“Something important?” She asked the Maester, nodding to what now she saw was a letter. 

 

Maester Luwin nodded. “A raven from the Wall.” Behind her, a grunt came from Theon before he was on the ground. 

 

“All right, you've had enough, Greyjoy. Alysanne, it is your turn.” Ser Rodrik shouted at the two. 

 

Alysanne picked up her blade, moving towards Robb, passing by Theon as he grumbled something under his breath. 

 

“Are you ready, Snow?” Robb asked, readying his own blade. 

 

“Are you, Stark?” she replied. 

 

They circled around each other, each waiting for the other one strike. Charging each other, the two matched hit for hit. The match continued, each growing tired the longer the fight went on. Alysanne sprinted to Robb. Yet, her older brother sidestepped her, hitting her in the back with the sword. She fell into the mud. Her blade slipped from her hand. When Robb’s sword tapped her back, the fight was over. Alysanne flipped over, noticing that Robb’s hand in front of her. She heard Theon’s laughs as Robb lifted her up. 

 

“Be quiet, Theon,” Robb shouted at the Greyjoy. The ward of Winterfell stopped right away, muttering about Starks and bastards as he walked away. 

 

Alysanne wiped the dirt from her face. “Good leg work,” she complimented Robb. “I need a bath.” 

 

Robb barked laugh. “Aye, I agree. And after?” he questioned quietly, noticing a few banner men around them. 

 

“Then I'm heading into town to see my friend,” Alysanne answered, and walked away. 

_____________________

 

Meeting Ros happened during a low point in Alysanne’s teenage years. A point in Alysanne’s life where her future was uncertain to her because of her bastardly status. Sansa was growing into a lady, just like her mother. She was beginning to understand terms like ‘bastard’ that were thrown around when they believe Alysanne wouldn’t hear. Distance grew between the two as Sansa left her dolls behind to grow up. The whispers, too, had grown worse as Alysanne developed more into a woman. She saw the leers of men she passed, for they say a bastard developed faster than other children. 

 

The dam finally broke during a heated argument between her and Theon. She does not remember how the fight started, but Alysanne remembered Theon’s words. She remembered the vice grip he had on her arm, as he leaned closer to face her, the smell of wine engulfing his breathe. “Lady Stark will one day convince Lord Stark that you do not belong in Winterfell. She will make you leave, and what would you do then, huh? That body is only good for one thing, lying back while every man puts their prick in you. That’s all you’ll be ever good for. The sooner you learn that, bastard, the better your life will be.” 

 

He left after, but his words lingered. The dread festered, clawing deeper through Alysanne. Nothing seem to make this feeling leave. It festered till the day Alysanne walked through the doors of the brothel. She had to endure Theon’s stories of his conquests. She heard the name Ros, multiple time from the Ironborn. Theon had even promised to introduce Robb to the woman soon enough. She seemed like the woman Alysanne needed to talk to. Alysanne was lead to her easily enough, once she entered the brothel.

 

The red haired woman welcomed Alysanne into her room. Neither said a word, Alysanne fidgeted where she stood, eyes facing the floor. “It is not everyday Lord Stark’s bastard graces a whorehouse. How can I help you?” Ros asked.

 

Shock covered Alysanne’s face, as she stared at the woman in front of her. “You know who I am?” 

 

The prostitute shrugged. “Of course, I do. You clearly look like your lord father.” 

 

That threw Alysanne off. “I…I wish to learn.” She couldn’t hold the blush that covered her face. 

 

Ros stared at the child in front of her. “And what made you decide that this is the life you want?” Ros asked of her. 

 

“I’m just a bastard. I..I have nothing, and I will have nothing when I come of age. I don’t even know if my father will allow me to stay in Winterfell when I am older, not with Lady Stark around. This is where my road will lead. I should learn then,” Alysanne rasped, her voice trembling as she held back her tears.  

 

“Oh, silly girl.” Ros walked towards the still child, embracing her cheeks. “You have the love of a your father, even I can see that. For what man would dishonor himself, as Lord Stark had, if he did not truly love you.” She lead Alysanne to the bed, sitting her down gently. “Your life does not belong here, little girl. Go back to your family. Talk to your father. He will ease your mind.” 

 

Yet, Alysanne did not move from her spot. Sighing, Ros sat beside Alysanne. “Why does a penis have a hole in the end?” 

 

The question came out of nowhere. Alysanne for a moment thought she misheard the woman. “What?” she questioned. 

 

“So their brains can get oxygen now and then.” Moments passed before a snort Alysanne escaped between her lips, she covered her mouth with her shoulders shaking with laughter.    

_____________________

 

Alysanne returned again to see Ros, many times over. It baffled the prostitute, yet as Alysanne’s trips grew, Ros grew to appreciate the girl’s friendship. “Hello lovely.” The usual greeting from Ros as Alysanne entered the room. 

 

Her eyes found Ros’s current patron putting on his clothes. “Good fuck, Theon?” It wasn’t uncommon to find Theon at the brothel. Ros was a favorite of his, so there were moments when their paths crossed. 

 

“Finally found your calling, eh bastard?” A common joke from Theon. The insult stung less after being repeated for many years. 

 

“Better be careful Theon, one day that member you prize so much might fall off from all the fucking you do, then who would provide the future heirs of the Iron Islands.” Theon’s grumbling were music to Alysanne’s ears, as she watched him leave. 

 

“I am surprised the both of you haven’t tried to murder each other yet,” Ros mused.

 

Alysanne laughed. “It will happen one day, just you wait.” 

 

Ros patted the younger woman on the shoulder, then headed toward her clothing on the floor. “Tell me when, I want to be in on that gamble.” 

 

Alysanne flopped on the bed in the room. “Going to bet against me?” Alysanne pouted. 

 

“No silly girl, I’m going to put all my money on you. I’ll buy me something pretty with the winnings.” 

 

Their time together continued till the sun was at the highest point, and Alysanne made her way back towards home. The day would be over soon.

_____________________

 

The Godswood, when the sun began to set, was Alysanne’s ideal paradise. The Old Gods, signaling their presence through the rustling in the leaves, were her only company. The quiet of nature, she was at peace, until…

 

“I thought I would find you here.” 

 

Ah, another piece of her paradise had arrived. Robb joined her, sitting down next to her. Neither of them spoke, embracing the silence. “I see us in Dorne, picking the grapes from the vine. We would create the sweetest strongwine. The sun on our back.” Alysanne fantasized. “Your skin turn bronze by the heat.” She lifted herself onto Robb’s lap.  

“Where do you see us today?” She asked, snaking her arms around Robb’s neck. He trailed kisses down from her neck to her chest, pausing to answer her question. 

 

“I see us as sellswords in Essos, selling our sword to the highest bidder. After every job, we enjoy the fruits of our labor, especially after a good fight.” Alysanne’s hands curled into Robb’s hair. She buried her nose in his curls. 

 

“Me as a sellsword?” 

 

Robb kissed her chest again, right over her heart. “You would be feared.” Alysanne couldn't hold back her giggle. Her body vibrating. Alysanne looked back up to Robb’s face. He had been growing his beard out. It suited his face more. 

 

Alysanne dragged her fingers through the beard. “Let’s go to bed.” Twilight faded into dusk as they headed back into the castle. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hopefully will update soon, but as I said earlier, I am getting busier as we head into June. I may hold off updating for the month to try to get a head on chapters. 
> 
> Again if you want to message me you can on right here on AO3 or at Tumblr: rennerwithwaffles@tumblr.com


	3. These Doors Won't Open, While You Stand And Watch Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direwolves, Kings and the Mysteries within the Crypt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired By: Cha-Ching - Imagine Dragons
> 
> This is later than I wanted to release it, I know, but thankfully the fundraisers that was helping with, which was taking up most of my time, is over. I have to tell you that event was so stressful, that I actually developed migraines. I've never had migraines before, and this one knocked me out for 16 hours.
> 
> Also, only ten more days till season 7 comes out. I'm so pumped.

The fire burned bright behind Alysanne as she looked out towards the courtyard of Winterfell. The lemon tea warmed her body. She didn't have much of an appetite that morning, turning back into her room to ready for the day. The dreams had return again that night with Robb. For almost a week, the dream replayed. She remembered the whispers in the crypts while placing the dark grey tunic on. Tightened her black jerkin around her body, the memory of the flames from the beast below caressed her skin. The red eyes that Alysanne saw through the smoke were sketched into her memory as she began to braid her hair. No longer did she gasp awake from the dream, just the fluttering of eyes that awoke to the rays of the sun outside. She could never move past the red eyes in the smoke. Ready for the day ahead, Alysanne headed out the door.

_____________________

 

Today, she worked with Bran on his archery with Robb. Rickon watched from nearby. Alysanne stood next to Bran as he struggled to shoot his bow. His first shoot hit a barrel to the left of the target. Alysanne laid her hands on Bran’s shoulders. “Go on, Father’s watching.” They both looked to see their father, Eddard Stark, on the balcony behind them with his wife, Catelyn Stark. “And your mother.” Bran turned back and pulled the string of the bow again and aimed. The arrow went above the target into the wood. Robb, Alysanne, and Rickon couldn't hold back their laughs. “And which one of you was a marksman at ten?” Their father asked, ending his children’s laughter. “Keep practicing, Bran.” He encouraged his son. 

Bran just stared at his father. “Go on.” His father encouraged. “Don't think too much, Bran.” Alysanne instructed, bending down to speak to her brother. “Relax your bow arm.” Robb chimed in. Bran aimed. An arrow hit the bullseye. Bran quickly turned, the arrow still on his bow. There Arya stood. Alysanne and Robb turned to see their young sister with a bow in her hand. They couldn’t contain their surprise. She smiled and bowed. Bran grit his teeth, chasing after the sister who took his glory. “Quick, Bran!” Alysanne shouted. Robb joined in. “Faster!” The siblings couldn't contain their laughter, watching their the younger ones ran off.

The laughter died down when Bran and Arya disappear. “Let’s clean up.” Robb commanded, walking over to the targets to pick up the arrows. He handed them to Rickon, which then were received by Alysanne. She placed them one by one, back into the dirt of the basket for others. She could feel someone eye’s on her as she looked up into Lady Stark’s icy stare. Alysanne looked away, continuing with her work, yet she could still feel the coldness of Lady Stark’s eyes on her neck. A chill bitter than any winter. She walked back to her brothers, noticing Theon and Ser Rodrik walking towards them. 

“Your father is to deliver the king’s justice. He calls for you, Robb, and your father deems Bran old enough to witness this too.” Rodrik told the eldest Stark son. Robb nodded in understanding, and he went off to find his younger brother. Alysanne followed after. “Watch over him. Father might say he's ready, but he's still young.” She grabbed Robb’s arm to ask this of him. He placed a hand over hers. “I will.” Robb walked on, shouting for Bran to follow him. Arya had followed Bran back to their elder siblings. Watching Bran and Robb walk away, Arya turned to her older sister. “I want to go, Alys. Why will father never let me go?” Arya asked. “It's unladylike for you to see such violence. I do not even go.” Arya tried to mumble under her breathe as they headed back into the halls of Winterfell, yet Alysanne heard her younger sister speak. “I am no lady.” 

_____________________

The day passed on. Alysanne’s time was spent between helping Maester Luwin feed the ravens, reading in the library, then imagining branches as swords with Arya in the dense godswoods. Their sticks smacking against each other were the loudest sound, in the forest, next to the grunts coming from both girls as they pretended to clash swords. “Arya! Alysanne!” The girls turned to face Maester Luwin, who walked towards them. “Your father and brothers have returned. He calls on you to come to the kennels. They seem to have something for all the children,” Maester Luwin addressed the girls. Both children dropped their sticks to head to the kennel to see what their father had found. Arya raced ahead, past Alysanne and Maester Luwin, “Lady Stark will not be pleased if she sees that you have been teaching your younger sister swordplay.” The Maester turned to Alysanne, warning her. “Hopefully, word shall never reach her.” She countered continuing on to the kennel. 

 

Heading to the kennels, Alysanne followed after Lady Stark, Sansa, Rickon and Arya. Robb and Bran were standing inside the kennel. Theon stood away from the other boys. He didn't seem enthused with whatever had happened during their time away. Sansa and Arya's shrieks of excitement quicken Alysanne's steps to the enclosure. Before her eyes, their laid small beasts. "These are direwolves, Ned." Catelyn Stark stated, looking to her husband in shock. _Direwolves? This south of the Wall._ _It is unheard of._ Alysanne thought, looking at the young pup in Bran’s arms. The direwolf was beginning to show his color, with specks of smokey gray and silver appearing throughout his fur. They had not been long in the world with their eyes not even fully open. "There is one direwolf for each of the my children." Her father proclaimed to the family. Arya rushed inside the den, picking a wolf for herself. Sansa walked forward with more caution. Rickon stood next to his mother, not taking one step near the direwolves, terror filling his eyes. The direwolves whimpered as they settled into their new masters’ warmth. Alysanne smiled at her siblings. _Of course, the direwolf is the sigil of Stark house, one for each of the Stark children._

 

"Alys." Robb called from within the kennel, waving her over. She approached her brother. He held something in his arms, but his cloak covered whatever it was. Robb lifted his cloak to reveal a pure white direwolf in his arms. "I walked past this one, had missed him at first. He had moved away from the pack. Silent, this one is but his eyes gave him away." Alysanne stared down at the albino direwolf. Instantly, she noticed this pup was different.  _ Just like her. _ Pure white, where his siblings were becoming dark, grey or black. The young direwolf looked up at Alysanne, and she could not hold back the gasp from her lips.  _ Those eyes. _ She had seen these eyes in her dreams. The eyes in the smoke before she awoke. “Got the scraps, eh Snow?” Theon spoke still standing away from the kennel. “Disappointed Theon?” Alysanne retorted, smirking at the Ironborn. Theon’s shoulders tensed. He seemed ready to march over.     

 

However, her father ended the fight before it could go any further. “Enough. I will tell you all what I told your brothers. You will feed them. You will train them, no one else. If they die, you will bury them. Am I understood?” He eyed each of his children. They voiced their agreement to their father’s terms. Catelyn could be heard behind Lord Stark. "Are you sure, Ned?" She whispered, concerned for her children’s well being, dealing with the direwolves. Ned assured her, escorting her away and leaving the children to their direwolves.  

_____________________

 

“The King’s Hand, Jon Arryn, has passed.” The announcement came, during the family’s evening meal, from their father. “Father, I’m sorry. You were fostered with Lord Arryn, during your youth, with the king?” Robb asked. “I was.” Their father answered. Sansa turned to her mother. “How is Aunt Lysa?” She inquired, concern etched on her face for her mother’s sister. “She has returned to the Eyrie with your cousin. I would go visit her, but more news has come out of King’s Landing.” Catelyn Stark replied. Their father paused for a moment before continuing. “I also have news that the king is coming to Winterfell with his family and the Lannister’s.” Gasps flew throughout the room. 

 

Alysanne could tell that Sansa was the most excited of the family. She was practically vibrating in her seat. “The prince will be coming too?” Lady Stark smiled down at her daughter. “Yes, the prince will be coming also.” The family chattered about the news. Sansa talked about preparing new dresses, and Arya spoke with Bran of the Lannisters. Alysanne stared down at her food, thinking about the royal visit, before looking back up at her father. “Does the king mean to name you hand?” It would be the only reason the king would come this far north. “Oh, does that mean you will head South?” Sansa asked, excitement written over her face. She did love the stories of brave knights. “I haven’t decided anything. The king is a month’s journey from Winterfell. We will, at the moment, prepare the castle for our guests.” Ned finished, going back to his meal. Alysanne listened as Sansa sang the praises of the South and the finery of their customs. She just listened with a smile while she kept eating. The month would go by quickly. 

_____________________

 

Word traveled fast throughout Winterfell about the King’s arrival and its newest additions. Many were curious about the direwolves to come near them, but most avoided them altogether, focusing on the preparations for the royal arrival. The children of Eddard Stark began to train their young direwolves. Trial and error surrounded the pups’ training in the following days, but so did their names. 

 

Sansa named her young pup Lady. It fit the direwolf well, Alysanne thought. Sansa tried to embody the ladies of the South from her mother’s stories, always so courteous and eager to please. She loved nothing more than the tales of knightly valor. Arya decided to name her direwolf Nymeria, after the warrior-queen of the Rhoynar who led her people to safety in Dorne. Rickon named his direwolf Shaggydog, the weirdest named of the pack. A direwolf of black fur and green eyes. Shaggy followed the youngest Stark like a shadow around Winterfell. Bran had not been able to give a name to his dire wolf. She had asked why one day. “Nothing fits.” He answered. Lastly came Robb’s direwolf, a blur of a creature earned it the name Grey Wind. “And what name have you given yours?” Robb and Alysanne converged in Robb’s room. Grey Wind and her direwolf rested together near the bed. “Ghost.” Robb stared at her confused. “Ghost?” He questioned. “He is not like the other direwolves. He never makes a sound. He is also white. Grey Wind and the others are all dark, grey, or black, so I named him Ghost.” Robb looked down at the growing pups. “It’s a good name.” 

 

Scraping on wood roused Alysanne later that night. She tried to ignore the noise, burying herself deeper into her furs, yet the scratching continued. “Hmmm.” Alysanne turned to the sound to see a ball of white fur at the door. “Ghost? What are you doing?” She questioned the direwolf in front of her. Lifting herself out of the bed, Alysanne moved towards the young pup to open the door. “Do you need to relieve yourself?” Ghost shot out the room, down the hallway when the door opened. Shock froze Alysanne, for a moment, but she quickly chased after Ghost. “Wait!” She hissed at the pup, chasing after the direwolf. Their chase led down the halls, across the courtyard, to the last place she expected. “The crypts?” Ghost scratched at the doors to the catacombs, insistent to get in. 

 

Alysanne stared down at Ghost. An uneasiness settled over her. Her earlier dreams coming to the forefront of her mind. The red eyes of Ghost staring at her in her dream. Alysanne stared back at the crypt’s doors. She could feel the heat from the creature below. The chanting of her name from dead. The unsettling pit in her stomach intensified. “No Ghost.” She bent down, grabbing the pup. She headed back to the her room, closing the door behind her. She would not go down into the crypt.      

_____________________

 

Winterfell prepared for their guests. Alysanne watched from afar. Food was brought in for the feasts. Barrels of wine brought up from the cellars, and more candles appeared than Alysanne dare count. Alysanne felt somewhat bad for Lady Stark, but that is the duty for the lady of Winterfell. Alysanne stared down at Ghost. “I do not envy her.” She told the pup. 

The direwolves were growing quickly the past month, nearly doubling in size in that time. Lady Catelyn had tried to the children to put the direwolves in the kennel at night, but that was impossible task. Ghost slept with Alysanne. She couldn’t keep him in the kennel, and he always knew when it was time to sleep by waiting on her bed. Her direwolf continued to scratch at the door during random nights. She would awake to see Ghost sitting by the door, head turned towards her. She would take the pup outside, but he would always lead her to the crypts. “We’re not going down there.” This was always her response. 

Yet after almost a month of this continuously happening, Alysanne stared at the doors to the crypts with interest. “Why do you want to go down there?” She questioned Ghost, who just continued to scratch at the doors. She needed this to end. She didn't see any of the night guard, opening the doors to the crypt. Ghost followed next to Alysanne, she gently stepped down the steps. Deeper into the crypt, goosebumps appeared all over her body as Alysanne reached the bottom. She was apprehensive to be back here, after that dream. 

The white direwolf ran ahead down the pass pillars. “Ghost, what are you doing?” Alysanne whispered, following after Ghost. He passed statues of deceased Starks, halting in front of one. A chill slithered down her back, that feeling of never being able to get warm, just like the dream. Step by step, she crept closer to Ghost. Eyes of the dead stared down at her. Alysanne made her way to Ghost and the statue he stood in front of. Once more, like her dreams, her late Aunt Lyanna stood before her. 

Touching the stone cheek, Alysanne wondered if this statute did her justice. “Why did you want to come here, boy?” She looked down at the direwolf. Tilting his head at head, Ghost stood silent. He was no help. “Well, is something here?” Alysanne checked every corner of the grave. Nothing to find, no hidden compartments, nothing. She gazed at the statue, hoping it would give her answers. Nothing but silence in the crypt.

 

A scratching sound echoed through the halls. Alysanne looked down. Ghost had slipped between his owners legs to begin digging beneath the grave. “What?” Alysanne stumbled back to avoid Ghost. The direwolf continued to dig. Alysanne dove to stop the pup. “Ghost, no!” She pulled the direwolf away from the grave. “You can’t.” She scolded Ghost, yet the young pup struggled from her grip. He succeeded to continue his mission to dig. Again and again, Alysanne tried to stop Ghost from pursuing his mission.  _ Ouch. _ “What?” Alysanne stilled as Ghost escaped and went back to digging.  _ He nipped me. She  _ watched the hole grow deeper.  _ Why? What is down there, Ghost?  _ Alysanne fought it no longer, and she helped the direwolf in his digging. 

Bastard and beast dug until nails and claws hit wood. Pausing, Alysanne stared down at her prize. The wooden box was hefty. It took a few tugs to pry it loose from the dirt. She struggled to lifted it out of the ground. Placing the chest back on the ground, Alysanne inspected it. The chest was plain, nothing special. There was no lock on the chest. Ghost whined behind her, as if to warn her. Her hands gently lifted the lid, bracing for what was inside. 

Eyes roamed over what the contents of the chest. Word could not describe the emotion flowing through her. Old Nan told stories of how Vermax left a clutch of eggs in the depths of Winterfell’s crypts. Yet if that were the truth, they should be deeper in the crypts, not under her late aunt’s grave. Alysanne looked down that the three eggs in front her. One was a white egg, silver streams laid through the ancient egg. The second red with copper markings spread throughout. The last dragon egg was a deep cobalt, with gold marking flowing deep. She edged closer to what laid before her. Her fingers brushing the eggs. She used both hands to lift the white egg. The lustrous silver within shined brightly under a torch. The egg was much heavier than she thought, as if it were fully solid stone. They were enticing. Warmth emitted from the egg, which was strange when the crypts were always cold, maybe the heat from the hot springs reached this far.   

A wet sensation covered her cheek. Alysanne turned to see Ghost had come to lick her cheek, bringing her out of her stunned state. Alysanne graced her pup with a tiny smile, scratching at his coat. She put the egg back into the chest, closing it. The cold was creeping through her body. She needed to head back to her room to get warm.

 

“Let’s go to bed, Ghost. It is late, and we’ll deal with this in the morning.” Alysanne filled the whole back up before picking up the chest. Carrying the chest was a slight inconvenience to Alysanne, heavier than anything she had carried before. She slowly made her way back to her chambers, locking the door behind her. Placing the chest under her bed, Alysanne crawled under her furs. Ghost followed, hopping on the bed and himself next to his human. Alysanne would deal with the chest tomorrow before the king’s arrival. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping the next two chapters won't take as long since I worked on those chapters when I hit a snag.
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated.
> 
> Again if you want to message me you can on right here on AO3 or at Tumblr: rennerwithwaffles@tumblr.com


	4. I Know This Life Is All I Have, Well That’s What I've Been Told

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stags and Lions Arrive in Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a beta! Thank you hanaotaku for editing my work.   
> Update as 8/13: All chapters have been edited.
> 
> I am about to leave my two year internship and head into law school on August 14th. I will try to update this story once a month, and I hope to continue to do so. Yet, the first year is writing and reading heavy. So if there is not for a few months, I have not forgotten this story. 
> 
> Also if you have read previous chapters, there were some changes. Ghost is female in this story, usually the gender of the dire wolf matches their human counterpart.  
> Apparently, I left a literal plot hole in the last chapter with not filling the hole where the eggs were found. Thanks to who commented about that. I was going to leave it and make it a plot point later in the story, but as I worked out this chapter, it didn't feel right. And in my original writing of that scene, I did fill it, so, I filled it again.

“So, I truly did find dragon eggs in the crypts last night,” Alysanne murmured as she stared at the chest from the crypt. She had woken that morning to pull the chest from under her bed. Opening the chest, the three eggs still laid within the box. Each stone egg glittered when hit by the sun. Alysanne lifted her head from the chest towards Ghost. The pup laid near her stomach. “...But, how did you know they were there, girl?” Scratching the pup’s head, Ghost wagged her tail. Her tongue hung from her mouth, yet she offered no answers to her master. How did they come to laid under her aunt tomb? How long have they been there? Question after question flooded through Alysanne’s mind.  

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Alys?” Robb. Alysanne stared down back at the eggs. Maybe she should show Robb what she had found in the crypts, but what if he told father, then he would take the eggs. He might even destroy them. 

“Just a moment,” Alysanne shut the chest, pushing it back under her bed. She headed across the room to open the door. Grey Wind sped past Alysanne’s legs, jumping on her bed, to rough house with Ghost. She smiled at the two before turning back to Robb, who still waited at the entrance. 

 

“Good morning, Alys. The king has been spotted outside of Winterfell. Mother is making sure we are all ready,” he told his sister, rubbing at his growing beard. 

“She is requiring you to shave for our guests?” Alysanne asked. Robb nodded. 

“She wants Theon and I to be clean shaven for the queen’s arrival.” Alysanne smirked. Her hand brushed his beard moving upward through his hair. The sun shone on it, bringing out more of the red from his Tully side.

“That is disappointing. You are more pleasing to the eye with your beard. You might even find a bride among the southern ladies.” Alysanne joked. She watched as Robb’s eyes narrow. He didn't appreciate her bringing up the subject. It was a point of contention between the two since the beginning of their affair a few years ago. It would be brought up by one or the other. 

Her older brother sighed as Alysanne moved her hand away. Robb grabbed it, stopping it in tracks. “Hey, I will not be marrying a southern lady at this moment. It is us, on my honor.” 

Alysanne looked at her brother. If they had honor, they would stop. She hoped the Old Gods would forgive her, one day. Yet they would not today because she would not stop this between her and Robb. 

“I apologize. It was a crude tease. You should go ready yourself. I need to prepare myself.” Robb looked down the hall to see they were alone before cupping Alys’s cheeks.  He leaned in, his lips firm. Alysanne could feel her heart stop during every kiss. There was a desperation in everyone of Robb’s kisses. He was a wolf of the North, and that wolf within wanted to escape. It was moments away from striking. Alysanne slowly moved back, looking up at Robb. “Go.” She gently pushed him back through the door. “Get ready for the queen.” Robb headed out the door, calling for his direwolf. Grey Wind jumped away from Ghost to chase after his master. 

 

____________________

 

Father had gathered all of Winterfell in the courtyard, awaiting for the royal family’s arrival. Theon and Robb arrived together, beard shaved and hair trimmed. 

 

“Tommy prettied you both up good. The queen might even be impressed,” Alysanne joked. She watched as Robb looked her over. 

 

“A new dress?” Looking down at her clothing then back up at Robb, Alysanne nodded. She fell in love with the material right away. The blue of the dress reminded her of a midnight sky. She had tried to embroider as best as she could on the wool dress. Sansa was talented one when it came to a needle. While Alysanne would never place the Stark’s sigil upon her clothing, she _ could  _ put things of the North that she loved. She stitched stars around her right shoulder, chest, and down her arm, stopping around her elbow. 

 

“Wait…” Robb inspected the garment closer, eyes wider. He could not contain his laugh. “You have put the constellations in your dress. I see the Ice Dragon’s eye.” He pointed to one star, singling out the lone light blue star.  “From Old Nan’s stories and Maester Luwin’s maps.” Robb commented. Theon was staring closer at the dress. 

 

“I can even make out the King’s Crown. Your clothes would help any sailor on the seas.” The Greyjoy joked. Alysanne was going to take it as a compliment. 

 

 “Robb!” Their father called for his eldest son to stand beside him and the rest of the Starks. Alysanne watched as her trueborn siblings stood tall next to father and their mother. Expect, she realized, Arya, who was missing. 

 

“Where’s Arya?” Lady Stark noticed her youngest daughter was missing as well.

 

Arya scurried past her family, but not before being stopped by their father. “What are you doing with that on?” He removed the helmet before letting Arya get in line. Alysanne smiled at her sister’s antics. 

The sound of horses trotting grew louder as the procession entered Winterfell’s walls. Crowned stags flooded the courtyard with white cloaks following behind. A tall boy trotted in on his horse. His hair shone golden in the sun.  _ That has to be Prince Joffrey. _ A larger man stopped his horse next to the prince with his helm in the shape of ravenous hound. 

 

More and more men lifted themselves off their horses, eyeing the largest man of the group. He vaulted himself off his horse. Searching the courtyard, Alysanne was curious at where the king was located, until she heard a roaring voice shout out. “Ned! Ah, but it is good to see that frozen face of yours.” A huge man crushed her father.  _ This could not be the king!  _ Alysanne stared at the man before her. King Robert Baratheon could not hide the dark circles under his eyes. She could see the iron wire beneath his coarse black beard trying to hide his double chin. Yet, nothing would hide his stomach. It was not how she imagine a king would look. 

 

She wondered if her father was shocked at the appearance of the man before. If he was, he hid it well, for their was no change in his stance. “Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.” Her father bowed before the king. It had been nine years since both men had seen each other, if Alysanne remembered correctly. Her father had left to stop the Greyjoy Rebellion with the king. He had returned, in turn, with Theon as a hostage. 

 

King Robert stood in front of her father. Alysanne could see the king examining her father over his shoulders. “You got fat,” the king stated. Her father gave no response, but both men burst out laughing a moment later and hugged again. The king turned to Catelyn Stark. “Cat!” He hugged her also. 

 

“Your Grace,” she said, bowing to the king. 

 

Robert stepped back, tousling Rickon's hair and walked back over to Ned. Robert’s booming voice could be heard through the whole yard with both men reminiscing about the past.  

 

Behind the two men, Alysanne watched as Queen Cersei step out of the wheelhouse that carried her and her two other children. Her face didn’t hide her distaste for North’s harsher weather. Alsyanne listened as Arya point out the Imp and Jamie Lannister to her sister. Sansa tried to silence her little sister, yet Arya didn’t listen. 

 

Cersei walked up to Ned and offered her hand, after a moment, Eddard kissed it. “My Queen,” he spoke, his wife followed by curtsying. 

 

“My Queen.” 

 

Each father brought their children forward, introduced them, and they were approved of by both sides. After introductions were given, silence consumed the yard. 

 

“Take me to your crypt, Eddard. I would pay my respects.” The king commanded. Her Aunt Lyanna. Yes, the king was previously engaged to her aunt before she was taken by Rhaegar Targaryen. The queen stepped forward to stop her husband, but Jamie Lannister intervened. The Queen said no more. Her father was given a lantern, and both men headed towards the crypts.

____________________

 

There were times when Alysanne Snow was grateful being a bastard. Those moments were rare, but they happened. The welcoming feast for the king was one of those moments. She sat among the other people of Winterfell and enjoyed her fill of the summer wine. No member of her family could stop her, sitting with the royal children beneath the raised table hosting the King and Queen. Banners of golden lions of the Lannisters, crowned stags of the Baratheons, and fierce direwolves of the Starks hung along the stone walls. Music and singing floated through the air, but she could barely heard it over the mutter of conversations in the hall. Alysanne looked up to the high table. She watched her siblings chatter among each other other at the table. They seemed to enjoying themselves.

 

Alysanne moved along to stare at the Queen. No one could deny her beauty. Her golden hair was topped with a jeweled tiara that shone bright against her hair. She sat beside Lady Stark, yet no words were exchanged between the two. However, what drew Alysanne was the queen’s eyes. The emerald color of her eyes could not hide her boredom and disdain. Even at seventeen, she could tell the queen’s smile was fake. Boisterous laughter turned Alysanne towards the King Baratheon. She could not hold back her disappointment as she continued to drink her wine. Her father would sing high praises about his friend. A fierce warrior now a drunk, groping any woman around him. She would have to avoid him or suffer the same fate. 

 

Something rubbed against her leg. Ghost eyed her master beneath the table, licking her mouth. 

 

“Are you still hungry?” Alysanne questioned the pup. She leaned over to grab the leg off the chicken from the center of the table. She was the only of her siblings to have their direwolf at the feast.

 

“So this is one of the direwolves I’ve heard so much about?” a familiar voice asked behind her. 

 

“Uncle Benjen!” Alysanne lifted herself from the table to hug her uncle. It had been some time since she saw her last uncle. Niece and uncle chatted among her father's banner men. Benjen spoke of the Wall and Night’s Watch. He spoke of his missions beyond the wall stopping any wildings trying to climb over. Alysanne knew that if she had been born male, she would have asked her uncle to take her to the Wall to join the Night’s Watch when he left. But the Night’s Watch was no place for a woman, there were songs to prove that. Eventually, her uncle left to visit the rest of the family. 

 

Alysanne moved away from the crowd, shoulders hitting other guests. Ghost followed behind, people moving out of the way for the direwolf. Alysanne was stopped suddenly, an arm grabbing her elbow. Looking up, she stared in the grey eyes of her father. There was a tightness around them. He was not being entertained by this banquet. 

 

“I hope you are enjoying yourself,” her father released her arm. “I am sorry you could not join us at the high table. Your presence was missed by us,” he mentioned to his daughter.

 

“I did not mind sitting at one of the lower tables. I was enjoying myself with Ghost,” Alysanne commented, sliding her fingers through the direwolf’s fur.   

 

“I noticed you snuck your direwolf in,” her father looked down at Ghost. The pup stared back at the Lord of Winterfell, seeming to know that she was being talked about. “She is well behaved. You have trained her very well.” Alysanne basked in her father’s compliment. Lord Stark seem to look over the celebration, taking in everyone’s enjoyment. Alysanne turned to look over the festive activity also. She watched as her father eyed the king, drinking heavily from his cup. 

 

“Have you decided?” Alysanne questioned her father. He turned his head from the banquet back towards her. An raised eyebrow asking what she meant.

 

“Are going to become the King’s Hand? Or he hasn’t asked yet?” Alysanne questioned her father. Ned Stark sighed. He explained that the king had asked him in the crypts to become his Hand, as he was the only man he trusted. Yet he was still thinking about the offer. He would tell his family and the king of his decision soon enough. The king would have to leave eventually. 

 

“If you do decide to go, what would become of me?” Alysanne asked. 

 

“You are a woman grown. I should have married you to one of my bannerman's son, yet I could not bear for you to leave Winterfell. To leave your family. However, everything will be fine. Whatever I decide to do, you will be taken care of,” her father assured her.  _ No. No, it won’t be fine. _ If her father left Winterfell, Lady Stark would not allow her to stay. She would be pushed out of her own home. Where then would she go? 

 

“If you would excuse me, father. I grown tired. I think I will retire for the night,” Alysanne pardoned herself, passing by other guests to leave the Great Hall. She needed privacy. 

____________________

 

The courtyard was deserted as Alysanne crossed it to head up the steps of the library tower. It was the perfect time to hide away in one of her favorite spots. Alysanne Snow enjoyed spending time in the library tower after she finished with her sword training with Rodrik Cassel and the others. Mostly, she shared the space with Septon Chayle after she was done with her studies to enjoy a book. He was a cheerful man. Robb would make fun of her of keeping her head in the books, but Maester Luwin said a sharp mind was just as powerful as the sharpest blade. 

 

Alysanne lit a candle to help her grab a book about Valyria. Her mind went to the dragon eggs hidden under her bed. She barely knew everything about the creatures that used to come from eggs like the ones she found. She remembered Old Nan’s stories of Vermax laying eggs in the crypts. Yet, that could not be true. She expected those eggs to be deeper in the tomb. Alysanne the book down on the table in the room. Ghost lower herself beneath the table. Alysanne read of the Fourteen Flames, the immense volcanoes that housed the dragons. Those readings led to the Doom of Valyria. There was not much information to be found about dragons in Winterfell’s library. 

 

“Well, it seems I will not be alone to enjoy the records of Winterfell.” A deep voice startled Alysanne from her reading as she stood up from her chair. She looked over to see a small man standing at the entrance. He held a bottle in his hand. It must have been wine from the feast. As the person came further in the library, she recognized the man with dark blonde hair.  

 

“I did not think anyone would be here, seeing the feast happening across the courtyard,” the man stated. Alysanne continued to stare at him. He was well dressed in fine deep red leather. The blonde hair reminded her of the woman that sat high in the Great Hall, judging everyone in the room. 

 

“You’re Tyrion Lannister. You’re the queen’s brother,” Alysanne asserted. 

 

“My greatest accomplishment,” he retorted. Alysanne watched his eyes roam over her, trying to figure out who she was. Tyrion Lannister walked over to the table in the middle of the room and laid the bottle upon it. His eyes then darted towards Ghost, who had sauntered towards Alysanne. The direwolf keep careful watch of the new person in the room. 

 

“Will your wolf bite me if I try to pet it?” Tyrion questioned Alysanne, yet keeping his eyes on Ghost. Alysanne’s finger slid through the wolf’s fur. 

 

“Her name is Ghost. She won’t as long as I command it.” Turning towards her friend, Alys directed the direwolf to sit to allow the Lannister closer. Tyrion’s fingers ruffled Ghost’s fur behind her ears. 

 

“And you, you're Ned Stark's bastard?” Tyrion probed. Alysanne stilled. Her eyes narrowing towards the Imp. Ghost growled at the Imp, fangs beared, forcing Tyrion to step back. His hands raised to placate the situation. 

 

“Stop, Ghost!” Alysanne commanded. Her hand squeezing the wolf’s fur, causing Ghost to still. Lips pressing together, she stormed to the shelves staring at the collection of books. She did not need some Southern commenting on her birth. She had enough of it in the North. 

 

“Did I offend you? Sorry, dwarfs are not known for being tactful. You are the bastard, though,” Tyrion commented. He had moved away from the Northern child and her beast to the other end of the room.  

 

“Lord Eddard Stark is my father,” Alysanne countered, turning back from the shelves to face Lord Tyrion. 

 

“And Lady Stark is not your mother, making you a bastard,” Tyrion answered back. “Let me give you some advice, bastard: never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.” Alysanne clenched her fists as she stepped forward. 

 

“What the hell do you know about being a bastard?” she angrily questioned the dwarf. 

 

“All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes,” he answered. Alysanne paused at that statement. 

 

“I...of course, my lord.” She turned back to the shelves, just staring at the books. Tyrion walked over to the table Alysanne had occupied. He looked down at the book occupying the table. Picking up the book, he flipped through the pages, seeing a mixture of Common Tongue and Valyrian. 

 

“You understand High Valyrian?” Tyrion asked the Snow. Alysanne nodded slightly. 

 

“Nyke iēdrosa gūrēñagon nūmāzma se udrir.” (I still learn about the language.) She spoke her words slowly.

 

“Yet, you speak it very well, Lady Snow,” Tyrion complimented. Alysanne could not hold back her grin at the praise.  

 

“Maester Luwin earned his Valyrian chain before he came to Winterfell. One of the few who has, he told me. I would spend time with him after our studies were complete. This was before I was allowed to train under Rodrik with Robb and Theon. He would tell wonderful stories about the world. He claimed a bastard grew up quicker than other children, so I could handle them. I was enthralled. He would help with my study of Valyrian. Eventually, Lord Stark relented on allowing me to train with the sword. I try to spend time with Maester Luwin when I find the time,” Alysanne explained. Tyrion smirked at the young woman. 

 

“A well rounded woman,” he praised her. She nodded at his approval. The Lannister wobbled back to the table to pop the bottle of summerwine. 

 

“Wine is only good with the company of others. Would you care to join me?” he asked the Bastard of Winterfell.

____________________

 

Alysanne wiped the tears in her eyes, noticing her brother at the entrance to the tower. 

 

“Robb!” she shouted out. Alysanne moved over to her lover. She thought he was still at the feast. Yet, she was being rude. They were not alone. 

 

“Meet Lord Tyrion Lannister,” she introduced the lord to her brother. Robb nodded towards the man. Tyrion raised his glass towards the Stark boy. 

 

Robb looked back to Alysanne. “I came to look for you as you weren't at the feast.” 

 

She smiled. “I wouldn’t want to insult our guest.” 

 

Tyrion didn't hold back his laughter. “My sister probably would still be outraged if she caught a whiff of a bastard in her midst. She is very strict to societal rules. She would see it as an insult if any of Robert’s bastards were brought to court.” Tyrion hopped off his chair and headed to the exit. “I must be off. I would not want to miss out on the festivities. Good night to you both.” 

 

Both Robb and Alysanne gave their goodbyes, with Robb turning to his sister when they were finally alone in the room. 

 

“You made a friend,” Robb commented. Alysanne giggled, stumbling back to her chair. “And had too much to drink, it seems,” he asserted. Alysanne sat, staring up at her brother.

 

“He is an intelligent man who loves to talk. He is also very funny with a wicked tongue, makes for good company,” Alysanne explained. 

 

“A wicked tongue?” Robb questioned his sister and her word choices. Alysanne raised an eyebrow towards her brother in disapproval. 

 

“That is what you focus on, of course. Yes, a wicked tongue. Crude jokes sometimes, but he is also witty. Many would miss his meaning if they did not pay attention,” she clarified to Robb. She tried to get up from her seat slowly. The world started to spin slightly. She grabbed onto the chair for balance. 

 

“Maybe I should head to bed. You are right. I have had too much wine.” Robb walked over to place Alysanne’s arm through his. They headed out of the tower gradually. Ghost followed behind. She was their guard during their short journey. Noise could still be heard from the great hall from the celebration, as they passed to their rooms. 

 

“Do you think father will accept the King’s offer?” Alysanne broke the silence between them with her question. Robb was silent, thinking over the question.

 

“I don’t know. He might not.” Alysanne felt Robb’s arms tightened around hers. “Stark’s have never fared well in the South, and he wouldn’t want to leave his family. I don’t even know if I would be ready to become Lord of Winterfell.” Alysanne leaned her head onto Robb’s shoulder. She knew that Robb would follow in their father’s footstep and be a good Lord of Winterfell. 

 

“But at least I’ll have you and mother here to help advise me if father decides to head South with the king.” Alysanne couldn’t reply to Robb in that moment. A twisting of her inside told her something was about to change. However, perhaps in that moment, she believed him. 

 

“Of course,”  she answered. No other words were spoken then. They continued into the halls of Winterfell. The walls joined them in their shared silence. It continued until the two paused outside her door. Ghost headed within the room.

 

“You look beautiful. I never did tell you earlier.” Robb told Alysanne. He brushed his fingers along the left collar of the dress. His fingers caressing the stitched dragon on the garment.  

 

“Thank you.” Alysanne answered, fiddling with the skirt of her dress. They looked each other in the eyes, Robb leaner closer till their lips touched. It was just for a moment, but Alysanne savored these moments. It was theirs. Just theirs, and she would not share this feeling with anyone else. 

 

“Sleep well, Alys. I will see you in the morning,” Robb said, stepping back from her. 

 

“Do have sweet dreams, Robb.” Alysanne said. She watched Robb head towards his room while closing the door. Sleep came quickly. The wine and Ghost’s soft fur enwrapping her to a silent night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! They are deeply appreciated.
> 
> Again if you want to message me you can on right here on AO3 or at Tumblr: rennerwithwaffles@tumblr.com


	5. Ready For The Colors To Burn To Gold And Crumble Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some events can't change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am alive and have not abandoned this story! I didn't plan for an update to take this long, yet life gets in the way.  
> This chapter is currently unedited.

The torment caused by the previous night of entertainment bared down on Alysanne. Her muscles ached. Her eyes burned from the shine of the sun. Yet, she continued to watch the fighting below in the yard, her sights focused on Robb and the men around him. He begged her earlier to watch the practice. Robb wanted a match between himself and the crown prince.

“Might get to show the prince a thing or two today.” Robb joked, readying for the practice session by putting on padding. Alysanne could see through Robb’s humor, he was side-eyeing someone across the yard. The eldest prince stood far to the side of the yard, a bored expression set upon his face. Alysanne noticed as she headed above that the prince had many knights and squires surrounding him. Standing next to the prince was his personal guard, Sandor Clegane, who had the same bored expression on his face. Alys sighted Bran and the youngest prince, Tommen, readying for practice, each of the boys putting extra padding on. Their practice raged on below. The clashing blades rang above the courtyard. Alysanne envied them. Men and boys alike swung their blades. Alysanne could see the fire in their eyes. Ghost raised her head from floor, taking Alysanne’s focus from the fights. She watched as her youngest sister walk towards her.

“Shouldn’t you be working on your stitches with Septa Mordane?” Alysanne questioned Arya.

“I wanted to watch the fights.” Arya answered back. Alysanne waved her over. Her youngest sister climbed upon the window to sit next to her oldest sister. She looked down below she watch the match Alys had been watching.

“It’s only Bran.” Arya could not hide the disappointment in her voice. They watched the boys swing their wooden weapons, hitting each other again and again. The youngest prince was red in the face, and Bran was not far behind. They were young and it would take time to build their strength.

“Shouldn’t you be in the yard also?” Arya inquired to her sister. Alysanne could not hold back her chuckle at her sister’s question.

“A woman practicing among men is one thing that would not be accepted, but a bastard striking royalty is another, only trueborn may strike. I rather be with you and Sansa working on my needlework than practice with the prince and the Hound.” Alys sighed, leaning forward. Bran had once again hit Prince Tommen in the stomach. The youngest Baratheon fell backwards, struggling to pick himself up with all the padding. Some of the men around them hid snickers behind their hands. “Sadly, I cannot join in those activities either with Princess Myrcella in the class. It would to our guest.” So said Lady Stark. Prince Tommen was back on his feet, rushing toward the second born Stark son.

“I could do better than Bran.” Arya crossed her arms as she commented on the fight. Alysanne smirked. “You are too skinny. I doubt you could even lift a longsword, never mind swinging one.” To articulate the point, Alysanne tried to grab her little sister’s arm, however Arya jumped away from her grasp.

“Good thing you are fast. Your speed would keep you alive.” Alys finished her comment by rushing forward to mess with Arya’s hair. It almost created a nest. Arya stumbled back to flatten her hair, sticking her tongue out. Both sisters laughed at their fun. The practice continued on below when Bran and Prince Tommen ended their fighting.

Ser Rodrik called for Robb and the Prince Joffrey to have their turn. Alysanne watched as the Prince’s words angered Robb, her brother rising to the bait to grab live steel. “What a little shit.” The Bastard of Winterfell commented. The prince continuously laughed at the Heir of Winterfell, walking around from the practice grounds.

“The show is done.” Watching the men leave the yard, Alysanne lifted herself up to leave herself. She looked to her sister, who was also lifting herself up. “I would head back to your needlework. Septa Mordane will be looking for you, better to go back now and face your punishment.”

“I hate needlework.” Arya grumbled, walking back towards her room. “It’s not fair.”

“Most things in life are not. Hurry along.” Alysanne said following behind. Ghost shadowed beside her back into the castle.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The day continued on, and that evening the grand hall again was filled with the roar of the voices of Northerns and Southerns alike. The gathering wasn’t as large as the festival the previous night, yet the food and drink still flowed endlessly. Stark and Baratheon sat side by side at the high table. The king’s booming laughter heard from across the room, yet he kept his hands to himself during the meal. Alysanne could see the tiny smile on her father’s face, two friends enjoying each other’s company. The banging of cups turned everyone’s attention and towards the king.

“Quiet down, you fools!” The king yelled to the people, and silence engulfed the halls. Alysanne lowered her cup, turning towards the royal guests and her family. Ned Stark stood, lowering his cup before he spoke.

“The king and his family traveled thousands of miles, and we gladly welcome them into our halls. The king has trekked all this way to Winterfell to ask me to be his Hand.” Murmurs filled the hall at their lord’s announcement. “I have accepted the king’s wish.” Cheers echoed through the hall, the celebration beginning afresh. Alysanne joined in the applause. She looked to her siblings. They all had looks between shock and delight. Sansa beamed, turning to her friend, Jeyne Poole, in excitement.

Alysanne’s eyes wandered back to her father, noticing that he was staring back at her. He leaned over to speak into the King’s ear. The royal just tapping her father in the chest, roaring with laughter then spoke something in response. Her father’s eyes never left hers as he lifted himself from the table. Lady Stark grabbed her husband’s wrist, stopping him to speak. Alysanne watched as he just looked towards her. Lady Stark turned to see where he was staring, releasing his arm when her eyes met the young woman’s. Many gathered around her father as he headed towards her, giving praise, pats on the back to their lord liege. Alysanne watched her father accept them warmly but did not stop in heading towards her.

“Alysanne, I wish to speak with you in my solar.” This the Lord Stark requested, not her father. Alysanne nodded, raising from the table to follow after her father. She looked back to see Robb’s eyes on her, a frown marking his face. They headed through the castle’s halls. The festivities quieting behind them. Both father and daughter entered the solar, neither spoke a word while Lord Stark moved to sit his desk. Alysanne stared at her father before her. His shoulders were tense, his mouth hidden behind his fists. The silence engulfed the room until the Lord of Winterfell spoke.

“Maybe, I should wait to speak about this.” He began, lifting his head to stare at Alysanne. “I am going to speak with your siblings soon after, but I wish to speak with you first.” He continued, yet the tenseness of his shoulder did not disappear. “When I leave with the king, you will be traveling with me, Bran, and your sisters to King’s Landing.” No one speaks after the words come out. Alysanne stared at her father, only one question coming out of her mouth.

“Why?” Alysanne questioned. Why take a bastard South to court? With her head bent, Alysanne’s thoughts swirled, questions mounting as more formed in her mind. At the same time, Ned Stark lifted himself from his desk to stand in front of his daughter. Alysanne felt his hands gently grip her shoulders, bringing her from her thoughts.

“You are the eldest of my daughters. I should have begun my search for a husband for you a few years ago, however, the thought of it has dissuaded me for some time. However, you are a woman grown, and I want to do what’s best for you.” He said. Alysanne lifted her head, confusion flooded her face before she spoke.

“Then why cannot I not stay in Winterfell, while...” Alysanne’s word halted in her realization as to why. Her shoulder slumping. “Lady Stark.” Alysanne answered her own question.

“I made a promise to my lady wife. She will not have you here when I leave South.” Lord Stark said dejectedly.

“I’m surprised she agreed to letting me go with you to King’s Landing. She rather she me as a Silent Sister than mingling among the high-born…” Alysanne almost remarked further, but a frown from her father silent her. Sighing, Alysanne lowered her head. It’s not fair. She didn’t want to leave Winterfell. She didn’t want to leave Robb. It…

“It is not fair.” Alysanne mumbled aloud, but apparently her father heard her because he gently rested a hand atop her head. She could feel a heaviness in her eyes as tears slowly fell.

“No, it is not, but it is what will be done.” Her father replied, moving forwards to wrap her in his arms. It was comforting. Alysanne sniffed, wiping at her face to remove her tears. Alysanne opened her mouth to speak, yet knocking interrupted the father and daughter. “Enter.” Her father commanded. The door opened to permit Robb. “You may leave, Alys. We will speak more on the matter later.”

“Father...” Alysanne heard Robb begin to speak to the Lord of Winterfell for a moment, but she didn’t care about what he had to say. She dashed down the halls, avoiding all who she passed.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Alysanne rushed to her room. She rather not see anyone while she processed the information. Ghost had lifted her head from the bed when the door slammed open, and she saw her human run in the room. Alysanne made her way over to her bed and gripped the direwolf, burying her face in Ghost’s fur. The direwolf made no sound, just stared at Alysanne before laying her head back on the mattress. Alysanne suspected that she would have to leave Winterfell one day. She forced herself to believe she would be prepared for that day, but as the weight on her chest continued to grow heavier, told her just how wrong she was.

A brush of wetness across her cheek brought Alysanne’s focus back to Ghost. The direwolf stared at her. Alysanne gave Ghost a tiny smile, gliding her hand through Ghost’s fur. “Thank you.” Alysanne told the direwolf. The two enjoyed the silence of it all, just the company of the other to fill the space.

A knock at the door changed out that.

Alysanne had an idea of who was at the door, so she called for them to enter. The tussle of red proved her right, when Robb entered the room. The slump of his shoulders and the grimace marking his face told Alysanne what had conspired after she left.

“Father told me of his plans.” Robb slowly made his further into the room, pausing before Alysanne and Ghost. Robb lifted his hand towards Ghost, stilling before the direwolf’s muzzle. Ghost sniffled the young man’s hand. Leaning forward to lick the hand, Ghost lifted herself from the mattress to move towards the fire. Robb lowered himself to sit on the bed, bending forward disheartened. “I tried to talk to him and change his mind, but he would not relent on his position.” Robb expressed.

“I’m not surprised.” Alysanne huffed from behind Robb. Lifting herself up, she slid next to Robb. “Once father is set in his way, he does not dissuade from his path.”

“We still have time to change his mind.” Robb countered. Alysanne shook her head, a chuckle slipping from her lips.

“He is not going to change his mind, Robb. I will follow him and our siblings to King’s Landing when the king leaves.” Alysanne spoke honestly. Once their father was set in his ways, nothing would deter him. A hand landed on top of hers turning her attention towards Robb.

“You would give in this easily?” He questioned, anger vibrating off his skin. Pulling her hand away, Alysanne stood away from her brother. He couldn’t be serious to think they had a future. She clenched her fist before turning back to Robb, her own voice raising in volume.

“We knew had to end eventually. I didn’t fool myself that this would end with us as Lord and Lady of Winterfell, Robb.” Alysanne exclaimed, her eyes clouding over. “I want to stay. I will not deny that, but we knew that you would marry or I would be married off,” The pressure in the pit of her stomach expanded, crawling up her chest. Alysanne bit her lip before continuing. “I don’t want to go.” She sniffled. Alysanne could no longer hold them back. The tears fell and her shoulder shook. She didn’t want to marry some stranger. Alysanne knew who she wanted a future with. Arms wrapped her waist. A kiss placed on the top of her head. She, in return, wrapped her arms around Robb’s waist.

“I love you.” Robb proclaimed gently. “Say the word, and we could disappear. We could leave tonight.” Alysanne’s grip tightened. She looked up to Robb. The tears had stopped, yet the redness around her eyes lingered. Alysanne gave a small smile.

“And I love you…we could run across the seas to the farthest cities, and probably could live our lives as different people. But if we were caught…” Alysanne could think of the possible punishments. She allowed her grip on her brother to loosen slightly, but she held on, placing her head on his chest. “We may possibly plan to run, yet we will not? We are our father’s children. We know our duty.” The two stood together.

“I would…I would give it up, even if in the end we were caught.” Robb whispered. Tensing, Alysanne looked up at her brother. No. Alysanne pushed back, separating the pair. Robb stumbled back, managing to catch himself before he fell.

“No.” The young woman growled. “You are heir to Winterfell, and your son will be heir and his son.” She wouldn’t allow Robb to give up his future for her. “Father will marry me to some minor lord’s son, and I will produce his children.” She was bastard. This was the height of what she would reach in this world. “I will watch as your children grown, as you watch mine do the same, and we will do our duties because that is what we were raised to do, Robb.” Alysanne finished, looking Robb in the eye. His face changed. First was anger, she had expected that. He would not outright accept he words. His fist clenched. Robb’s mouth opened a few times, yet no words exited. Then his brow furrowed. He was contemplating her words. Robb had to know she was right. Finally, the sadness hit. Alysanne watched as Robb’s shoulders slumped. He had given in. Grabbing his hand, Alysanne lifted it to kiss Robb’s knuckles.

“I know.” She whispered. Alysanne remembered when their relationship began to change. “It was after the heavy rains.” Robb looked down at Alysanne confused. “We were thirteen.” Eyes lighting up, Robb did remember. A small smile gracing his face.

“We snuck out into the yard to play. The mud was slick beneath our shoes.” Robb added. They had left Theon and their other siblings in bed that morning. They had to be silent, or else father and Lady Stark would learn of their deeds. They had held in their laughter. She recalled the constriction of her chest, her huffing breathes while she chased Robb.

“We ran around the yard. I still remember the faces of those who watched. The castle was beginning to rise. I fell.” Robb huffed a laugh.

Alysanne recalled running towards her brother to check on him. He had begun to pick himself up. He had look at her, yet all Alysanne remembered was…

“The sun hit you, and I don’t know…I just knew I never wanted the moment to end.” Robb’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Your eyes,” Alysanne spoke. “I imagine the ocean in your eyes and realized I never need to know as long as I could see your eyes.” She looked at Robb. The memory didn’t change the truth of the incoming change in their life, but it was enough at that moment, Alysanne realized. She grabbed Robb’s hand.

“Stay. Let us have tonight, at least.” Alysanne begged of her brother. The elder nodding in agreement, following his sister to bed. “I dream of us traveling the world, side by side,” Robb whispered and continued whispering each fantasy of a different future. Alysanne listened till the whispers faded.

Morning arrived, and the sun had a soft glow. Robb laid his chin on the crook of her neck. His breath warmed her shoulders. His arms curled around her waist. “Father spoke about the king wanting to hunt in the Wolfswood. I should be heading out soon to join their hunting party.” His voice was soft in her ear. Alysanne twisted her neck, her nose brushing Robb’s.

Alysanne clung to Robb. She hoped her eyes conveyed all her love she had for the man before her.“ Then we will enjoy every second we have left.” She promised.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Alysanne stood next to Ghost as they watched Robb depart with the hunting party. He joked with Uncle Benjen, a smile gracing his face while they rode through the gate. However, Alysanne watched them depart depressed. She kept her arms tight around her body, turning away to hide away from the others. Soon, she would leave, and she didn’t know when she would return.

“Alys?” Alysanne turned to see Bran looking up at her, his direwolf sitting next to him. He still had come to name the animal. No name seem appropriate, according to her little brother.

“Yes?” Alysanne asked. “Would you like to play?” Bran requested. Bran always wanted to play with Robb and herself, believing himself an adult. “I’m sorry Bran, but not right now. Perhaps another time?” Giving her brother an uneasy smile, Alysanne rubbed Bran’s auburn curls. Bran gave a small nod, in response, before running off, his direwolf following on his heels.

Bran’s backside disappeared behind the halls of Winterfell, and a frown reappeared on Alysanne’s face. She continued her walk around Winterfell, deep in thought. Ghost followed by her side. Perhaps King’s Landing would not be dreadful as she thought. She would still have Arya, Bran, and even Sansa with her. Possibly she could find some way to train with Bran…perchance Arya would try to sneak into some of those lessons. No, Arya would definitely try to sneak into any sword lessons. Alysanne had to laugh.

Alysanne’s thoughts wandered to the eggs still hiding in her room. King’s Landing used to house all the Targaryen dragons before they became extinct. There had to be extensive knowledge of the creature within the wall of castle. Alysanne looked down at Ghost.

“I wonder if father will allow you to travel South with us?” She inquired to her direwolf.

Howling in the air caused Alysanne to pause in her walk. She stared up to the sky. The sound sent chills down her spine. It was a cry of pain, of loss. Rustling made Alysanne turn towards Ghost to see the direwolf running off towards the sound.

“Ghost!” Alysanne exclaimed, chasing after her direwolf. Pushing anyone in her way, Alysanne rushed through the courtyard. Shouts could be heard behind her, but she ignored them to follow after her friend. Ghost hurried through Winterfell. The pup did not slow while the howls grew louder.

Alysanne realized later that time blurred.

Lady Stark screams echoed through the air.  
Maester Luwin pushing her, telling her to get her father.  
Someone handed her a horse.

She rode the horse hard. The hunting party couldn’t have gone far. Alysanne continued to ride. Cheers echoed through the air, guiding to men hanging in a group. She saw them, the king apparently readying a shot. “Father!” She shouted, frightening not just the king but the creature that he missed. “Damn the gods, child. I missed the shot.” Alysanne heard the king curse, looking to his friend’s bastard. Any words that he would have spoken froze as he saw the state of the girl. “Alysanne?” Ned questioned, driving his horse slowly towards his daughter. Alysanne could hardly breathe. Robb came closer. “Alysanne, what happened?” Alysanne took a deep breathe, trying to calm herself.

“Bran.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a crazy year so far. I passed all my classes. I temporarily went blind in one eye at the same time I lost my health insurance. I got an internship dealing with capital trial (death penalty cases), and I go back to school in one week. 
> 
> I do hope to get these chapters out now that I have my motivation back. I started that by sitting down and figuring out where I wanted to go with this story, and came to the conclusion that this is going to be longer than I thought, so I need to break it up. That's why this has an end chapter count. 
> 
> Also, I am having a little trouble coming up with dragon names, so if you would like to name one of three dragons, please leave any suggestions.   
> Remember:  
> "Three eggs, three different looks. One egg was white, silver streams laid through the ancient egg. The second was red with copper markings spread throughout. The last dragon egg was a deep cobalt, with gold markings flowing deep."

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of fan fiction is eight years. I needed to start getting this out before I start law school in the fall. I do have a generally idea where this is going. This has been beta'd all by myself, but if anyone would like to help out, you can contact me at http://rennerwithwaffles.tumblr.com


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